


Sirens of Mercy

by whatsacleverusername



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Companionable Snark, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, Everyone Has Issues, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Jon has wild hearing, Jonathan Crane and Scarecrow are Different People, Mild Blood, Organized Crime, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Past Relationship(s), Physical Abuse, Post-Break Up, Protective Pamela Isley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsacleverusername/pseuds/whatsacleverusername
Summary: “No one’s the good guy in a break up when you’re both rogues.”"Or the bad guy."
Relationships: Jonathan Crane & Harleen Quinzel, Jonathan Crane & Pamela Isley, Jonathan Crane & Selina Kyle, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Selina Kyle, Pamela Isley/Selina Kyle/Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle & Edward Nygma, Selina Kyle/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	Sirens of Mercy

The shared living space is still and quiet as Pamela enters, unusual for a Saturday night, especially with leaving her two romantic housemates alone. The various plants in their home- in _proper, non constrictive_ pots- inform her of a feeling of pain, sorrow, and fear before she even crosses the doorstep. Immediately putting her guard up, she carefully steps through the building, the house plants guiding her to Harleen’s room. Her fury is only momentarily paused by Selina leaning against the doorframe looking in, though she quickly turns her head to face Pamela. She presses a finger to her lips and shakes her head, offering no further explanation. Locking eyes for a moment in a silent exchange, Selina sighs and lets Pamela storm past her to find a familiar lanky, stick-thin body curled up next to Harleen, head resting in her lap and long fingered hand covering the side of his face.

Her protective outrage flaring up twofold, Pamela seethes, “is that-”

Whipping around to face her, the typically cold, stoic face of Jonathan Crane stares cut and bruised back at her, tears leaving streaks through the dried blood on his hollowed cheeks. The one eye that isn’t swollen _completely_ shut looks at her with panic while the busted lip quivers like a pathetic child’s. Before anyone can make any further move, Harleen pulls the terrible Scarecrow closer in a comforting hug, guiding him to hide his face once more against his friend.

“Leave him alone, Pam,” Harleen says with a serious look. “He’s had enough for one day.”

At a questioning look from Pamela, Selina states, “we all know Eddie isn’t the best with break ups.”

“Crane let _him_ kick his ass?” Pamela scoffs.

“The insecure bastard had his cronies jump him when he said he was leavin’ for good,” Harleen corrects, gently petting the back of Jonathan’s head. “Poor guy almost fell through the door when we opened it… All that to get outta a bad situation.”

Pamela scowls at that. She and Jonathan didn’t have the best of relationships, even if he’d managed to wrap Harleen _and_ Selina around his finger, but even she feels a small pang of pity for the scientist. She was the first to say he was making a mistake shacking up with that narcissistic megalomaniac, after all, and she tends to be right about such things. Troubled and hurt as the Riddler is, he has a tendency to throw tantrums when he doesn’t get what he wants. Jonathan always said the slaps he received were far from the worst offense a partner had dealt him, but she could always see past it. For a man that hunts abusers for test subjects, he’s awful compliant when it’s himself being hurt.

Pursing her lips in thought, Pamela asks, “do we have a date and time for this revenge job?”

“I’m handling it,” Selina assures, pulling Pamela into the hall. “I know Eddie. He’ll talk to me at least semi sensibly. I _also_ know how to beat the sense into him instead of just beating him. I’ve already told Harley she can’t come for that reason. Maybe you can make sure she actually listens.”

Glancing back at the pair of disgraced psychologists, Harleen carefully pulling a fluffy, pink and black blanket over the trembling man, Pamela mumbles, “I don’t understand why she’s so fond of him.”

“You’ll hate me saying this,” Selina comments, “but you aren’t that different from one another, and Harley.” Holding a hand up when Pamela glares, she adds, “you were the first people to help get her to curb the Clown, a type of relationship you both have firsthand experience with. Maybe have a little compassion for your trauma twin.”

As much as Pamela wants to snap back at the thief, make some scathing retort about her own past relationships, she feels her anger dissipate. Selina’s right. She won’t say it out loud, though. Judging by the smirk on her face, however, she doesn’t have to.

Rolling her eyes, Pamela says, “go therapy the oversized leprechaun, I’ll keep watch on them here.”

Flashing her a dazzling smile, Selina kisses Pamela’s cheek and teases, “maybe there’s a heart in there after all, Petal.”

She doesn’t give Pamela a chance to snark back, heading down the hall to prepare for her outing. Shaking her head, the botanist takes her place leaning in the doorframe, watching with guarded adoration as Harleen consoles the gradually stilling man, suspicious as she may be of their almost sibling-like friendship. It never ceases to soften her to see Harleen’s potent ability to comfort almost everyone she meets. Before her eyes, the rigid, tense form of Jonathan begins to relax in her arms, the usually touch averse man leaning into her embrace as if starved. Uncrossing her arms and stepping into the room, Pamela picks up the sunrise succulent from the windowsill, bringing it over to place it on the bedside table. She pretends not to see Jonathan flinch as she whispers something to the plant, the pink on its leaves' edges seeming to brighten as she speaks.

“She’ll help him relax and sleep,” Pamela answers Harleen’s question before she even asks, sitting on the bed next to her.

A grin spreading across her face, Harleen says, “you’re so sweet, Red.”

“More than he deserves,” Pamela grumbles.

“Ya really think so?” Harleen frowns. “Craney really ain’t so bad. He’d drop everything to help ya if you needed it…”

“He’s a lying, manipulative-” Stopping herself, Pamela shakes her head and sighs. “… _He’s difficult_.”

“An’ the three of us aren’t?” Harleen asks, equally teasing and serious.

A slight smile teasing at the corner of her lips, Pamela gently strokes Harleen’s cheek before saying, “don’t let him make a stink bomb in the sink again.”

“That was an _accident_!” Harleen reminds with a giggle, leaning into Pamela’s touch. “A real funny accident.”

Scoffing, Pamela kisses Harleen’s other cheek and stands up, glancing at Jonathan- who’s now out like a light, no doubt the first wink of sleep he’s gotten in a couple days- before leaving the room. The succulent will tell her if either of them move an inch. That gives her time to put her things away given she’d just gotten home, and contemplate what both women had said…

The air in and around the Riddler’s favorite hide away is heavy as Selina invites herself in through an unlocked window, easily avoiding the alarm system and bypassing security. She only hesitates just outside the emerald egomaniac’s quarters to put an ear to the door, frowning as the sound of muffled crying reaches the borrowed and repurposed listening device concealed in her cowl. Mentally preparing herself, she knocks once on the door. She knows better than to try barging in through the Riddler’s door without being invited first, more so to avoid worsening his mood than any security precautions that may be in place. They didn’t stop her arrival.

“Go away,” is the muffled, slightly hoarse answer.

“Not a chance,” Selina says.

There’s silence for a moment, before Edward’s voice quietly says, “come in.”

Opening the door, Selina frowns at the sight before her. Sitting in the middle of his grand but otherwise empty bed in an upright fetal position, Edward all but clings to his pillow, face buried in it as his arms hold both it and his knees to his chest. With a brief hesitation, Selina sits on the side of the bed, gently touching his shoulder. Much to her surprise, he moves away from her, and she quickly takes her hand back.

Letting the silence hang for a moment, she asks, “he’s left for good this time, huh?”

Edward doesn’t answer. She didn’t really expect him to.

“Was he yelling again?” she continues.

He peeks over the pillow, but still doesn’t say anything.

“What was this fight about?” she continues.

Ever so quietly, he says, “same as ever…”

“It obviously wasn’t _entirely_ the same,” she points out.

“He was drinking again, a-and…” Edward hides his face once more, trying to muffle his sniffling, for once not trying to draw attention.

“Was he sober when he left?” Selina asks, holding out her arm for him.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, resting his head on her shoulder. “Probably not. Not entirely. He- He _was_ yelling, and shouting, and- He c-called me a- He was going on about how horrible I was to h-him, how little _I_ seemed to c-care even when _he_ was the one always holed up in his lab, how I was always hitting him wh-when he-”

Interrupting, Selina points out, “you have hit him more than once, Eddie.”

Pulling away to glare at her, he shouts, “they were slaps! Just slaps!”

“Do you know who else would slap him?” she asks sternly.

“…I-I did _not_ treat him as badly as she did,” he says, looking away.

“You didn’t, that’s true,” Selina agrees. “He said they were far from the worst he’s had, but he obviously equated it to her.”

Edward pauses for a moment, frowning and making lines in his perfect skin. “I-I never meant to- I know I'm annoying, a-and a brat, and full of myself, but I- N-Never meant to- To push him a-away, to hurt him, I…”

Selina knows how to see through Edward’s shit. Her well guarded heart breaks for the genius as she sees nothing but sincerity. 

“It wasn't only your fault, Eddie,” she assures. “Jon isn't exactly the best at communicating, and he should've put the bottle down a long time ago.”

Feeling fresh tears stinging his eyes, he chokes out, “everytime he picked it up again, everytime- Not- Not Jon, I-I know he wouldn't, but- _He_ would a-always empty i-it and- Hit me with it, o-or throw it at me, or- I _know_ Jon w-wouldn't, but I was always s-so scared he would-”

Gently rubbing his back, Selina says, “I know, Eddie, I kn-”

Looking her in the eye, he says, “Jon _bit_ me the last time he was d-dru-” He cuts himself off to swallow the lump in his throat. “I- I know he may not have been- It might not have been him, but- H-He didn’t have to scream at me or threaten me when I took the bottle away!”

She looks at him for a moment before closing her eyes and turning away, sighing and shaking her head. Turning back, she says, “you knew going in Crane’s a difficult, bitter man.”

“I didn’t kn-know he’s a _drunkard_ ,” he retorts.

“Yet you stayed with him after you found out,” she shoots back. “You could have stayed separate one of the many times either of you stormed out, but you didn’t. Not until you sent your gang to give him a step down from a whacking.”

“You didn’t h-hear what he called me, o-or what he accused me of,” he says with a sniff. “You didn’t hear h-how he s-said I was the w-worst he’s ever been with, worse than e-even the h-harlot that turned him into e-even more of a _freak_ before trying to kill him.”

Selina narrows her eyes at that word, but lets it go. For now. Sighing again, she says, “maybe you’re better off apart.”

“Maybe I never should’ve trusted th-that nonentity hick to begin with,” he mutters.

“ _Ed_ ,” Selina warns.

“You said it yourself!” Edward shouts, pulling away again. “He’s difficult, and bitter, and hateful, a-and assumes the worst, and- M-Maybe I had it right when I hated th-that mistake of a man’s guts.”

Scoffing and getting up, much to Edward’s surprise, Selina heads for the door, saying, “well, I’ll leave you to completing that circle and one upping him on the name calling, then.”

He watches her leave with wide eyes and a hurt gasp, his sorrow quickly boiling over. Staring at the door for a moment, he suddenly yells into his pillow before throwing it at the wall.

Returning just in time to catch the end of Pamela muttering something to the fern she’s watering, Selina scoffs and sits in one of the chairs around the in-home greenhouse, putting one leg over the arm.

“Temper tantrum avoided?” the botanist asks.

“Hardly,” the thief scoffs.

“Why am I not surprised,” Pamela says, shaking her head and moving to a snake plant.

“Is Hay Bale stable?” Selina asks.

“Enough to use every swear in the book cussing Nygma out,” Pamela answers.

Laughing humourlessly, Selina shakes her head, putting her other leg over the arm of the chair as well and leaning back. Pamela gives her a questioning look but remains silent, pouring the last of the water into a ficus’ pot.

“Let me guess,” Selina continues. “‘Eddie does nothing but bitch and moan if he’s not ignoring me.’”

“Sound familiar?” Pamela asks sarcastically.

“The only person as unaware of himself as Eddie is Jon,” Selina says, rolling her eyes.

Pamela scoffs at that, adding, “I’d say stubborn as well, but we’re living with a third contender.”

Entering the room as if on cue, Harleen sighs audibly and flops over in another chair, pouting.

“Is he still ranting and raving?” Pamela asks.

With a nod, Harleen says, “‘specially after hearin’ you. I give him until the end’a the day before he spirals down into regretful depression and self vilification. He’ll be blamin’ himself again in no time.”

“You’d think one of them would realize it’s both their faults with how smart they are,” Selina mumbles.

“No one’s the good guy in a break up when you’re both rogues,” Pamela states.

“ _Or_ the bad guy,” Harleen interjects.

“Strong personalities run rampant in this city,” Selina agrees.

“Strong personalities and stupid men,” Pamela adds.

“And neuroticism,” Harleen nods.

The other two women look at her for a moment before chuckling, Pamela moving over to sit next to Harleen on the chair’s arm. All three turn to look at the sound of a thump and a certain scientist’s voice yelling, then turn back to look at each other.

Rolling her eyes and standing up, Selina mutters, “I’ll go calm him down.”

“Be easy on him, Kitty,” Harleen pleads.

Scoffing, Selina gives her a kiss, doing the same for Pamela, before walking off towards the origin of the sound. It’s going to be a long, pitiful, mentally taxing day.


End file.
